


A New Story

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Fix-It, Promises, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: "I've seen hundreds of permutations. I know all the variables in play. You have to tell him."Michael's gut dropped out as she realized what her mom was saying. "Mom."





	A New Story

**Author's Note:**

> I'm feeling Very Melancholy about the S2 finale, so the other story I'm writing is getting far longer than I expected. So here's a bite-sized post-ep for 2.11 "Perpetual Infinity." Also posted [here](https://alethia.dreamwidth.org/1027568.html).

The rift swirled above them, red energy circling ominous and unwavering. Tears filled Michael's eyes, knowing this was it. 

Her mom knew it, too, looking to Michael with so much love, more than she could even comprehend. That hadn't been a child's idealized view of a parent; it was real, here and now, staring into her eyes. About to be lost again. "I need you to be happy, Michael."

Michael shook her head, tears already spilling over; she couldn't even fathom it. "Not with you out there."

Her mom's expression went fierce and resolute, the one that said there'd be no arguing; her will would be done. "You can. You _must_. I've seen hundreds of permutations. I know all the variables in play. You have to tell him."

Michael's gut dropped out as she realized what her mom was saying. "Mom."

But she was determined, shaking her head. "I know it, Michael. You can change each other's futures. You can be happy. Promise me you'll try."

The rift's energy _spiked_ , lifting the suit into the air before sucking it in. Then it visibly pulled at her mom, lifting her into the air. "Promise!" she called to Michael, like she _needed_ it, needed the reassurance that her daughter could be happy, that everything she'd done wasn't for naught. 

"I promise," Michael called out, reaching for her hand—

And then the rift took her completely, her mom disappearing like she was never even there. 

Michael's world crumbled, grief sweeping through her for the mother the universe would never let her have. 

***

Her game with Spock had settled something within her. Beyond the comfort of slowly rebuilding their bond, his words—so reminiscent of her mom's—had firmed her resolve. Their choices affected the future. What they did today mattered. 

And she had a promise to keep. 

Michael walked into the ready room, clocking Pike by the window, glass in hand, staring out at Essof IV's blue-gray swirl. The gray light cast a shadow over him. 

He turned to look at her, eyes softening in quiet sympathy. "I'm sorry," he said simply.

"Me, too."

He tilted his glass, an offer, but Michael shook her head. That was not the answer to her problems, tempting though oblivion might be right now. 

"We lost," she said, throwing it out there because it needed to be said, to be recognized. "My mother is gone. Leland is gone. Control has over half the sphere data."

Pike nodded, contemplative. "Today, we lost." He tilted his head, eyes steady on her. "Tomorrow is a new story."

"Yes, we 'continue the fight,'" she said, echoing his words, a hint of scorn seeping in for the pat pronouncement. She wanted the truth from him, the acknowledgment. She wanted him to be real.

She _wanted_ him. But that was another thing. 

"When our cause is righteous, that's what we're called to do," he affirmed in his captain's voice.

Michael nodded to his glass. "Yet here you are, drinking alone."

"Someone else refused," he shot back, pointed. 

Michael's look called bullshit, making a corner of his mouth lift, acknowledging it with a nod. "You never let me get away with anything," he murmured, but it was appreciative. 

Then he sighed, moving to his desk, setting the empty glass aside. "The irony of my life—that someone so consumed with doubt has to project such conviction." 

_There_ it was. The simmering inside her settled with the admission. She was so vulnerable with him. She wanted the same in return. 

"You're a very convincing liar," she offered.

"Thank you," he said, mild, the corners of his lips turning up. 

That look warmed something inside as affection swept through her, reminding Michael why she was here: the very inconvenient attraction she'd sworn to herself she'd leave alone. 

Cracking his façade was just a side benefit.

Pike shook his head, weariness slipping into his expression, showing Michael what lay behind the mask, drawing her in. "Did we get hosed today? Epically. It was a total charlie foxtrot, from start to end, Dr. Burnham's mission logs perhaps the only thing we can salvage from it. But I can't take that to everyone out there."

"I know," she said, sympathetic now. 

He huffed a laugh, a tiny sparkle to it, the one he got sometimes when they were alone and made each other smile. The one that warmed her despite her best intentions. "So, what, you're just here to give me shit?" he asked.

Michael shrugged. "Did you expect anything different?"

"I expect it from your brother. I don't need it from two of you."

"Or _do you_ ," she said, dry. 

Pike smiled again, shaking his head, that hint of lightness slowly fading away. "I really am sorry. When I thought we'd brought her back to you..." He trailed off, something remorseful around his eyes. 

Michael didn't let herself get lost in the grief; not here and now. She'd never come out. 

"We lost her today, but tomorrow is a new story," she said, deliberately echoing him, genuine feeling behind it. 

Pike studied her, probing. "You're taking this better than I expected." He was asking without asking, seeking the vulnerability within her, too. And hell, when had she denied him that?

"Oh, I'm hanging on by a thread made of denial and maternal expectation," she said, her deadpan belying that it was all true. 

Pike picked up on it, nodding. "Eh, whatever works."

Michael breathed out some kind of laugh, appreciating how he always met her on her terms. Appreciating him. 

He sobered then, holding her gaze. "With you, I do believe it, though. You'll find her again. I have faith in you."

The _want_ within her flared, sudden and shocking, making her desperate to reach out and touch, to seek the comfort she knew he could offer. 

Part of her rebelled. He _hadn't_ offered, had he? For all her mom's talk of being happy, Michael had never gotten any definitive interest from him, even if sometimes it felt like there was more hiding underneath their smiles and shared looks. 

It would entirely fitting if her promise to her mom led only to humiliation and heartbreak. 

But it _was_ a promise. 

Michael swallowed the emotion down, forcing herself to remain in place, to _think_. "My mother left more than just her logs. She gave me my own mission: be happy. Or at least try."

Pike nodded in agreement. "You can. You should."

"That's why I'm here."

A furrow appeared in Pike's brow as he shook his head. "I don't follow."

Michael steeled herself. This was the hard thing, but it had to be done. She'd _promised_. "Over these last few months I've found myself...taken with you. Your integrity, your sense of justice, your—well. It's called to me." Pike blinked, a surprised air around him. He clearly hadn't expected this at all. 

"I realize it's unprofessional," she continued, just to make sure that was clear. "I hadn't intended to let you know— "

"And then your mother called you on it," he realized, gaze gone shrewd, figuring it out. "She knew. No wonder she took me to task like a little boy."

"She was a little intense with you, yeah," Michael said, dry. 

Pike brought his hand to his mouth as he thought, marveling a little. "...she knew," he muttered, something shaky to it in a way Michael didn't understand. 

She needed to get this conversation _over_ with. 

"I understand that this puts you in an awkward position—"

Pike's focus _snapped_ back to her, heated, derailing Michael's next words. He took the three long strides to get to her, blue eyes intense. "Michael, _she knew_. Don't you see?" Then he was _there_ , standing before her, hands cupping her face, the touch shockingly intimate after so long without. 

Michael exhaled, hearing its unsteadiness, her hands covering his own, tingling where they touched. But still, she didn't understand. "...really?"

"I never would have raised it," he murmured, so much _feeling_ in his eyes now, the captain's mask totally gone—nothing but heat and loss and _want_ on display. Michael's body stirred in response, wanting to sink into it, to feel it on her skin, in his bed, stripped bare between them. 

"She made me promise to tell you," Michael whispered, her voice somehow rough, making his pupils dilate and hands _flex_ against her. 

"Then I owe her a debt," he said, low, right before he leaned in and _took_ her mouth, heat flaring within her again. 

But this time, it was shared.

***

And together, they wrote a new story. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.

**Author's Note:**

> There, I fixed it. As they say, it writes itself.


End file.
